


The Good Witch and the Bad Witch

by ThorinBilbo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, good and bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThorinBilbo/pseuds/ThorinBilbo
Summary: The tablet could only tell Sam and Dean so much. There was to be a Good Witch, a witch who uses her powers for the good of mankind, a woman of tranquility and humility. A woman who excretes kindness and prosperity. Opposite her was the Bad Witch, a witch who appears arrogant, narcissistic, and oozes superiority and power. These two witches happened to be Fergus Macleod's twin daughters that his wife managed to escape with, causing him to spiral into an already inevitable tirade of complete and utter horrid actions. These two witches, twin sisters, family, were destined to eventually brawl, to end the other one and eventually have one reign as the Supreme Witch. And, as a sucker for such power, Rowena decides to truly enable this prophecy into reality by bringing the girls back from the dead.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)





	The Good Witch and the Bad Witch

** Author's Note: ** **_I got this idea from the Wizard of Oz. I also liked the thought of Rowena interacting with her kin that also happened to be witches. To clear up any confusion, the girls are a year younger than Gavin, and they were taken away right after they were born by their mother, leaving Gavin to suffer at the hands of their father, Crowley. More detail will be shown in future chapters._ **

* * *

Her presence here was unwanted. She felt a light stir in the atmosphere, the abrupt coldness sending a shiver down her back. The spirits that roamed here could sense her identity without any help. But she wasn't here for them. This graveyard was supposed to be impenetrable from navigational magic. The bodies that laid beneath the soil had drenched the land in their powers, keeping passersby from disturbing the dead. All of these graves contained magic wielders, witches, warlocks, whatever the titles they went by. And they considered this land, where they rested, sacred. But now it was perturbed, spirits crying out as a warning as her designer boots carelessly passed each gravestone. She was clearly on a mission.

At the center of this graveyard relied three family tombs. The one in the center read ' _BENNETT_ ', the one on the right had ' _PATTERMOORE_ ', and the far left had an intricate font for ' _MACLEOD_ '. Her eyes lit up in delight, her perfectly manicured fingers tightening their hold on the strap to a leather-clad purse. The disturbance she implemented to these poor, tortured souls now flew to the back of her mind, straightening her posture as she approached the tomb on the far left, her heels clacking against the stone steps. On either side of the two doors were pots filled with dead lilacs. She grimaced, laying her hand across each and watching as each came alive underneath her palms.

Satisfied, she pushed open the doors, struggling for a moment as they refused to give. With one good push, they relinquished their hold and practically welcomed her inside. The stone walls and the cobwebs gave off the already obvious impression that nobody has been inside here for years. The walls were lined with vines, all dead with lilacs dried up along the floor. At the center of this tomb was a giant column with a plaque attached to the top, sunlight painting it from the hole in the roof. Curious, she peered over it.

' _Here lies the brave souls of Josie Anastasia Macleod, Lucille Maureen Macleod, and Helena Felicity Macleod. May their souls rest in peace, for in the living, their triumphs were only met in pain._ ' The woman snorted. She thought that was downright cheesy. Whoever was in charge of creating this was hopefully executed. Gingerly, she set her purse on top of this plaque and slipped around in order to follow the dead lilacs toward three graves imprinted into this stone wall. These were the bodies of the Macleods. On the left laid Helena. At the center was Josie. And on the right was Lucille. She hummed in delight, running her hand over their name plaques, getting rid of the dust that had gathered.

"Oh, my wee darlings...what have they done to you?" she asked. "The injustice..."

The spirits outside of the tomb were growing angrier. They now knew exactly what she was doing here, and they couldn't do anything to stop her.

She turned around and marched back to the column that held her purse. She opened it and dumped its contents onto the ground. A clay pot, a blade, a tiny grimoire, and many more ingredients littered across the stone. She bent to her knees, straightening everything out. The tiny flasks filled with different essences shimmered and chimed as she moved them. The spirits were restless outside. They collided angrily against the closed doors, trying their hardest to get inside. They just couldn't let her do this. It was complete madness.

She worked quickly, pouring the precise amount of each flask while throwing a dash of whatever root she thought necessary. When she found herself on the last step, she proceeded to grab her blade and hold it to her right hand, closing her eyes gently. The loud pounding on the doors from the furious spirits and the incessant wind blowing through the tomb through the hole in the roof suddenly dulled until she could hear nothing at all. Suddenly, her eyes reopened, and they were painted in a dark violet.

" _Ai bring disha onto yu, ai descendents. Gon when ai jus leaks, the spell will become won kom your beings. Gon when yu don risen, destiny will run its course. Gon when ai jus elicits, yu will forever be complete. The magic ai don sought keeps yu alive taim yu teik the other. En so rise...RISE...RISE!_ " The mixture of English and the tongue of the necromancer magic she had spent weeks perfecting now echoed off the walls. The sky above the tomb suddenly darkened considerably. Rumbling thunder and the crackle of lightning could be heard, along with the pounding doors and wind. She ignored it, digging the sharp blade into her hand and allowing it to leak into the clay pot. At once, the ingredients were suddenly set aflame.

The storm outside of the tomb brewed even louder. The fire grew only bigger, eventually melting the pot completely. The woman, at once, jumped to her feet. Perhaps she did something wrong? This wasn't supposed to happen. Deciding her life was worth more than her plan, she grabbed her empty purse and raced for the doors, pulling angrily at the doorknobs, but they refused to give. The spirits on the other side were still trying their hardest to gain access, but the doors refused to open.

The fire grew only bigger, and soon enough the entire tomb was full of smoke, the small opening in the roof not enough to keep the oxygen level high. Soon enough, the fire was able to touch the three plaques where the women laid, supposedly resting. The silver material melted from the flames and just when she figured she just sealed herself for her death, the fire suddenly went out with a snap. The impossible warmth disappeared in favor of the rain humidity left from the storm. The putrid black smoke circled overhead until, eventually, it slipped its way from the opening. The doors finally gave way, and she squealed as she tumbled to the ground from the pressure.

The spirits had disappeared almost immediately, almost as if they had run off.

She panted, trying to catch her breath. She clutched the front of her blouse, heaving as she struggled to get to her feet. There sat freedom out back into the graveyard, which had now become a muddy mess from the storm that thundered louder. She thought of just running to her vehicle. This was obviously a mistake. Something to leave behind in only her memories, because if anyone that knew better found out what she was trying to do, they'd have her head.

She nervously glanced over her shoulder, wanting to get one last look at the graves before she'd leave. Instead, she let out a blood curdling gasp, tightening her hold on the front of her chest as she threw herself against the opposite wall, practically wanting to shrink down and disappear forever.

Two women stood on opposite sides from the other end of the tomb. One was petite and short with long raven hair. Her eyes glowed unusually scarlet, as if it were artificial. She was clad in an exquisite gown, the black cloak around her giving her a most mysterious aura. Her face was small, complete with a button nose and full lips. The girl to her left was a few inches taller with a longer face. Her hair, impossibly curly, was pinned back with an intricate flower she'd never seen before. She, too, wore a beautiful gown with a white cloak. Her eyes, which were wide and round, glowed a bright, vibrant blue, almost heavenly like. The two stared bemusedly at her, tilting their heads in curiosity. Her face broke out in a sudden wide smile, and she opened her arms wide for an embrace.

"Oh, my darlings! My wee girls! My granddaughters! You have come home at last!"


End file.
